


Witching Hour

by Tarlan



Category: Eureka (TV)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, Halloween, M/M, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8435878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: Jack came here to rant at the painting of Nathan Stark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **Trope Bingo** Round 7: FREE SPACE. I chose to use prompt Presumed Dead

At first Jack thought it was a photograph of Nathan Stark placed in the hallway, in remembrance of his sacrifice, but on closer inspection Jack realized it was a painting. It was good though. Really life-like. Perhaps too life-like because Jack could swear the eyes followed him whenever he walked through that area. Or maybe he was simply amplifying his own guilt because Nathan had died in his place, and on his wedding day too. Oh, it hadn't taken too long to figure out Nathan had lied when he told him he didn't have time to explain how to operate the clock. Fargo revealed later that the timing was all set up and all Nathan had to do was press a button when the timer counted down to 18:00 hours.

He could have pressed a goddamned button, but instead Nathan had to go sacrifice himself just when Allison needed him most.

Jack had tried to take Nathan's place in her life, partially because she was a beautiful woman who was also incredibly smart, but mostly because he felt guilty for depriving her of both a husband and the father of her second child. It had taken him a few years to convince her to marry him, and they had a beautiful baby boy together, but though he had tried everything within his power to make her happy, their marriage hadn't worked out in the long run. Now he was on his own again.

Jack stopped and glared up at the painting, because it wasn't the fault of anyone living that his marriage hadn't worked.

She was with Trevor Grant now, someone who was as smart as her, and the fact Grant now owned the whole town and Global Dynamics didn't hurt either as far as Allison was concerned. Jack sighed. As long as Allison allowed him access to the kids then he wasn't going to complain too loudly, but on days like this, with her announcing her intention to take all three kids away for a month with Grant, he felt it perfectly justified in coming into this corridor just to glare at the creepy painting of Nathan Stark and rant a little.

It was all Nathan's fault for dying on him.

Jack sank down on the bench placed opposite, swaying first one way and the other, convinced the eyes really were following his movements. It was disturbing but once again he blamed his overactive imagination, refusing to listen to Eureka gossip of a tall, shadowy figure seen walking these halls at night. He sank deep in thought, thinking back to the days when the rumor was true, mostly because Nathan was a workaholic who didn't seem to realize he could have a life outside of making the town Sheriff's life pure hell and misery.

"Who has a painting done of themselves anyway?" he asked aloud. "Oh, right, an egoman-", and froze, looking harder at the painting in question.

It had moved.

Not the actual physical painting but the subject of the painting had tilted the angle of his head just a fraction, as if trying to get a better view of him. Jack shook his head because it had to be a trick of the dim lighting as Global Dynamics was well into night mode now, having reduced power consumption as soon as most of the staff had left for the day. Jack took a few steps closer, huffing out his annoyance at his own paranoia because nothing seemed out of place now. Yet he felt his U.S. Marshal's sixth sense kick in, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise from knowing someone was behind him.

Watching him.

Jack spun on his heel but the darkened hallway was empty, with just the deeper shadows at the far end, and yet Jack was still convinced someone was there. He strode forward, stopping when the shadow moved just a fraction to form the outline of a far too familiar man, silhouetted against the pale light beyond for one second before he was gone.

"Nathan?"

After a moment he let the tension sag away. Maybe he'd accidentally inhaled something on his way up and this was just an hallucination, or maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. He sank back onto the bench, dropping his head into his hands and laughed softly to himself, convinced he was finally going insane, for what other reason could he have for being here in the early hours of the morning when he ought to be home in bed, sleeping.

Home.

For a time he thought it had it all, the whole white picket fence with Allison and the kids, and it had taken him a while to understand she'd left him for the sake of both of them, before they ended up tearing each other apart. The bunker didn't seem like home anymore, and being alone still hurt... though maybe not as much as realizing the white picket fence dream was what he thought he wanted rather than what he truly needed.

He looked back up at the painting. It had taken him a lot longer than he cared to admit that he came here because this was the only place where he felt close to a man he believed he hated, until he watched him die.

"I needed you," he finally admitted out loud. "You," he stressed, eyeing the painting balefully.

"I'm here."

Jack almost fell off his seat. He jumped up and looked all around, seeing nothing, but he'd recognize that voice anywhere, even if it was hollow and had a strange echo as if traveling through miles of metal pipes. Jack narrowed his eyes, convinced someone was playing a trick on him. It was Halloween after all.

"Jack!"

He turned again, facing the end of the hall with its dark shadow, seeing movement.

"If that's you Fargo, I'm going to-."

"Swing a few things?"

Jack blinked in surprise, recalling a weird moment only he and Nathan had shared while searching for a way to save Fargo from a personal force shield gone wrong. He narrowed his eyes as he walked slowly towards the end of the hallway, seeing the shadow detach itself once more and take on that familiar form. 

"Nathan? Is that you?"

"Jack, I'm lost."

Jack frowned. "Can't you go towards the light?"

"Is your mind just a series of bad horror movies?"

"Hey! It's what they always say."

"I got pulled through a portal outside of time, Carter, not a TV screen."

"Then can't you just go back through it to here?"

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

"No need to get sarcastic."

"Get Henry. Now. Before I run out of time."

"I thought you just said you're outside of-."

"Jack. Please," Nathan begged, and that had Jack fumbling for his cell.

He called Henry, strangely not surprised to find he was still in the building at this late - or early hour in this case - because scientists and their trick or treats could get really messy.

Henry was there in minutes, and soon after that they were both in the Time Maintenance laboratory with Henry brushing away dust and cobwebs before flipping switches and turning dials. A light flashed inside the sealed container set in the center of the laboratory, and the shadowy figure of Nathan began to take on solid form. The door opened and Nathan stepped out on shaky legs to Henry's triumphant shout. Nathan took another two steps forward, pulling Jack into his arms and holding him tight. After a moment Jack held him back, feeling a tightness in his chest ease for the first time in three years.

****

"I still don't understand," he said to Nathan much later after he'd been checked out and released.

They were lying naked and pleasurably sated in Jack's bed in the bunker, and Jack was still not quite sure how they got to this point so quickly, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Nathan sighed, repeating the complex math and theory of portals being thinner at certain times of the year due to gravitational forces or something, and how he'd tried to break through a number of times before Jack turned up in the Witching Hour at Halloween. Finally he slowed and stopped altogether when Jack continued to give him a blank look.

"Magic," Nathan stated blandly. 

"HUH! And I always thought that was just hocus-pocus."

"So did I," Nathan replied before reeling Jack in for another kiss.

END  
 


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